Will of the Heart
by Clopin K. Trouillefou
Summary: Sesshomaru follows his father to find him on his dying breath. Is he too late? Not entirely sure where this is going, so hang tight and hopefully I'll figure it out.


He pulled himself from the burning wreckage of the mansion as it collapsed around him, taking what little remained of his strength, dragging himself far enough from the flames to not be burned, but close enough to find some comfort from their heat. It was winter, so of course it was cold as was the bit of snow he collapsed into, but it was not the winter chill that was stealing upon him, it was the icy fingers of death tightening its grasp. Now that his battle was at an end, the pain of his wounds was upon him, the soreness of his form, this unfamiliar weakness in so powerful a form, the bleeding from the deep gash in his side finally slowing whether it be because it was closing or because there was little left to bleed, he had no idea. He knew he would die this night, had in fact made peace with it, but now that its icy touch was upon him, he wished for some way out of it as a cough wracked his weakened body, bringing a few drops of precious blood to coat his lips and even dot the white snow beneath him. He had said his farewells to his wife and infant son, regretting he would not see the boy grow or be there when his mother died, regretting that his last meeting with his first born had been filled with hostility. He wished his older son could know how much he meant to him, could know how he regretted the exchange between them, the words they'd both spoken, how much he'd miss him. Too much regret and not enough blood in his body to keep him alive as he let out a strangled growl to voice the anguish he was feeling as he lay dying, his hand clenching around So'unga. Peace was stealing over him as his vision grew blurry and darkened around the edges, a few tears coursing down his face as his breath grew shallow, his body struggling to let go even while it fought to live. Myouga and Totosai had come and gone to carry out his instructions regarding Tetsusaiga and Tenseiga, opting to return for the demon-possessed sword their master still held onto after he had passed so they could figure out what to do with the damned thing.

How could he have let his father just take off like that, allow him to be so reckless? Did the old dog not realize the severity of his injuries? Or were the lives of some human and her half-breed whelp more important than his own? He had half-hoped his father would take his challenge, allow his son an opportunity to strike him down, incapacitate him so he could get him home. Yes, he desired his father's swords, his position, envied his power, but that did not mean he wished for his father's death, he was still his father and despite the hostility that had grown between them, he still revered and respected the old dog. It was practically an insult for his proud, noble sire to die like this when he should live on to finish what he'd started with the dragon that had challenged him. Would it not serve him better to live on to protect his human wench and their half-demon bastard? Tracing his father's steps wasn't hard, his scent was still strong and the blood that had fallen from his wounds marked the trail, but he'd wasted precious time with hateful thoughts. He smelled smoke as well as his father's blood, he knew he was close and stopped briefly, perched on a branch as he came upon the burning remains of the mansion where that woman had lived. Her scent lingered in the area, so she and her half-breed had already fled, perhaps as he fought off one last threat. He gazed about, the smoke making it difficult for his sensitive nose to find his father's scent, and spotted him lying in the snow in a puddle of his own blood.

The final peace that had crept closer withdrew faintly when a sound caught his ears, a threatening growl rumbling as a pair of black boots came into his view, the wind bringing the scent to his nose. Resting his head on the ground, he cast his amber gaze up to peer at the face of the one standing before him even though he knew who it was.

"Sesshomaru," he got out, a sense of relief coming over him.

"Mourning your own death?" he asked in that cold, emotionless tone he used as he observed the tears.

"Do not... think," he wheezed, his voice too low for any human to hear and the one above him straining to catch his words, "that you will... tear this sword... from my dying hands... pup."

"You waste your breath, Father," the boy knelt in front of him, "You will only hasten your death."

Such was the state of things between father and son that the elder assumed the boy had come only for the powerful sword in his grasp. Did his father truly believe he cared so little for him? The dog that had always claimed to know his pup better than the boy knew himself. Tears continued to fall even as he narrowed a glare up at Sesshomaru; so the boy had come to watch him die? He was colder than the Dog General ever suspected, he'd always known of the iciness that had grown in his son but he'd never dreamed he was so heartless as to follow him all the way here just to watch his sire die. Sesshomaru straightened, his eyes bleeding red, his markings becoming jagged as his face elongated into a snout and he released his true form, that of a demon dog of impressive size though it was not nearly as large as his father was in the same state. Gingerly, he picked his father up in his massive jaws and turned to race back the way he'd come as quickly as he could through the air lest his efforts be in vain and the old dog die before they'd reached their destination.

Sesshomaru would have much preferred some other way of getting his father home so his wounds could be tended to and though he had a few different ways of traveling great distances, flying through the air in his true form was the fastest way. So he'd swallowed his pride enough to suffer the indignity of carrying his father in his mouth like a pup, he wished he hadn't had to come and save the old dog's hide in the first place, but he wasn't cold enough to stand by and let his father die. There was also the added benefit of his increased strength of this form, he would've struggled under his father's massive weight in his humanoid form. Strong as he was, his father was a large dog covered in heavy armor and in his condition his lean muscle was nothing but dead weight that Sesshomaru would've been stuck struggling under. Carrying him home like this was almost worth the trouble the alternatives would've been. Before long, he had landed outside their fortress, shifting to his humanoid form and, as he'd predicted, struggling under the massive dead weight of his father's dying, muscular form under the heavy, demon-bone armor. Half-dragging him inside, Sesshomaru called for servants to stop slacking and aid their master before the great demon bled out all over the floor which they hurriedly did. He knew that the Dog General was no longer conscious, his waving bangs covering most of his face from view, his labored breathing an indication he was not long for this world if they didn't act quickly. Servants bore the dying lord to his chambers with all due haste calling for healers along the way even as a few others urged Sesshomaru to his own rooms to change out of clothes now stained with his father's blood. He did, if only to distract himself momentarily from the growing distress of what was looking like Inu Taisho's inevitable demise despite his son's best efforts, before hastening to his father's chambers to see about his condition.

Though he'd made many enemies in his time, Lord Inu Taisho was a much-beloved master to those that served him, so underneath the collected demeanors of the servants and healers tending him was a great sorrow over his possible demise. They had not allowed their young lord in to see his father having no wish to expose a pup to the sight of his father in his condition even if that pup was the Ice Prince Sesshomaru. No doubt he would've remained composed, but they thought, or rather hoped, that such a sight would distress the son and wished to spare him that. Bad enough he had the taste of his father's blood in his mouth and the memory of his father dying in the snow, they would not burden him further with the sight of the full extent of the wounds that threatened the Dog General's survival. So Sesshomaru waited outside his room, leaning against the wall beside the door, arms tucked in his sleeves and his eyes closed, head resting on his chest, seeming entirely at ease. Taisho was even now struggling for breath, barely hanging on by a thread, though by all rights he should have perished by now. The claw used to seal Ryukotsusei had broken violently from the digit leaving the flesh torn and bleeding and the claw jagged, the wound on his forearm was deep and serious but not life-threatening though it'd been bleeding heavily. No, their concern was the deep, ugly gash in the great demon's side that was easily his most serious wound and the one that could cost him his life, an injury so severe and deep it may very well scar him for life should he live. The healers worked tirelessly until they had done all they could for him and left him still half-dead in his bed to allow his son what may be the pup's last chance to see him. They had done all they could, it was now left to the _Inu no Taisho_ to pull through or let go, it was up to him and what strength he had left to pull together his will to live and survive this horrific night.

His father's personal aide emerged from the Lord's chambers and bowed deeply to the adolescent demon who had turned his amber gaze upon her when he heard the door slide open, holding it for him to enter if he wished. He pushed himself from the wall and passed through the door that she softly closed behind him, his eyes sweeping very briefly over the expansive room before settling on the still form of his father lying on his futon. His blood-stained clothing had been removed, leaving him bare save for the blanket pulled up to his chest and the bandages covering his abdomen and forearm, his long, silvery hair no longer in its customary topknot, but loose and flowing around him. His armor sat upon its customary stand when not in use, damaged though not broken, either way it would repair itself over the next few days whether its master woke or not. He did not like seeing his father in such condition, it was undignified, he looked weak, frail, vulnerable lying unconscious, his flesh unnaturally pale, almost ashen, from blood loss, his chest heaving in quick, shallow breaths. He was no longer struggling for breath as he was, but he wasn't breathing any easier either, it was clear he was still at death's door, his death still a very real possibility. Sesshomaru certainly did not truly hope for his father's death, but he had made peace with it so if he did pass on, which seemed likely, he would not be surprised or overly burdened by it. He had been informed that Lord Inu Taisho's recovery was not something to be hoped for and it was much too soon to tell if he had any chance of pulling through, though should he make it the night, his chances would increase greatly. So this night was crucial for if he made it to morning, they would have a better idea of what the future held.

"You are a fool, _Chichi-ue_," he muttered, kneeling by his father's side as he lit the incense Taisho preferred while he meditated, "Sacrificing yourself for some worthless human and her half-breed pup."

He reminded himself that much as he didn't like it, the woman was not worthless to his father, she was everything to him and if Inu Taisho's dalliance with a human woman didn't bother the Lady Mother, why should it bother him? Just because his mother put up with a wayward mate, faintly amused by his odd fascination with such frail creatures, didn't mean he had to. His mother could be cold and distant, so it was small wonder the Western Lord had gone to outside sources for affection and comfort, he could well understand that, but for his noble father to have so lowered himself left a bad taste in Sesshomaru's mouth.

"Was it worth it, Father?" he asked asked as he rubbed his thumb over the jagged stripe marking his father's cheek, the innocent pup buried deep inside afraid of losing his father.


End file.
